My favourite bookstore | Ice skating outdoors in -7 degree weather (not uncommon here in autumn) | The town is all dressed up for Christmas | A family of deer trekking through the back garden on Thanksgiving
In my town there is magic. It lives in the dust on the shelves of the independent bookstores, in the elusive glory of the creatures of the mountains, and in that opaque yet palpable aura folks like to call Christmas cheer. Sometimes, it is so gracious as to hover long enough for me to capture a comparatively dull expression of it with my lens. Sometimes, I feel the hand of beauty reaching for mine, compelling me to discover and inviting me to gaze in awe. And in those moments, I know I'll never grow up.